Facing Fear
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: Dean is forced to face one of his biggest fears in order to get to his little brother. Teenchesters. Hurt/Sick/Sam and Scared/Protective/Dean. One-shot.


Note: For **lenail125 **who asked for a teenchester story on Dean's first time flying. I am not sure if this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it. :)

* * *

You can do it.

Come on.

It's not a big deal.

It's just a plane.

They fly without crashing every day.

You'll be fine.

I shake my head, because not only is that one dumb-ass pep-talk...but it's not working in the least.

I hate planes.

The idea of flying that high up in the sky in a tin compartment makes me sick.

All it takes is one tiny thing to go wrong and the entire plane is going down.

There is nowhere to run, no monster to kill, nothing to do to save yourself.

You are just dead.

I shake my head again, because those thought's aren't helping anything either.

I glance towards the exit of the airport, not surprised that the Impala is nowhere in sight. Dad said he didn't want to pay to park, so after he explained to me how this whole boarding-the-deathtrap system works, he took off.

I was standing in line, waiting to go through security, glad that my father had thought to make me empty my pockets of weapons. All I had on me was my duffel, which was apparently small enough to be considered a carry-on, and a flask of holy water. Not that I needed it, but I was already going weaponless. I would feel exposed if I didn't possess some form of defence.

I followed the lead of the people in front of me, pulling off my shoes and emptying my pockets into the container. I watched as the woman beside started removing her jewelry, so I did the same. I dropped my watch into the plastic box, then pulled the amulet over my head and placed it gently inside as well. I felt naked without the weight of the charm hanging around my neck as I waited impatiently to walk through the metal detector.

Once me and my stuff were given the official okay, I immediately extracted the gift from my little brother from the box and placed it back where it belonged, releasing a small sigh as it settled against my chest. I grabbed the rest of my stuff, slipped my shoes back on and made my way towards gate number three.

I shifted about uneasily as I waited to board the plane. My nerves were on edge as I tried my hardest to remain calm.

I have never flown before and had no interest in doing so now.

But Sammy needed me.

My little brother was sick.

Dad and I had left him at Bobby's last week because he had been coming down with a cold. I had laughed about it then, telling the twelve year-old that only he had luck bad enough to catch a cold during summer vacation.

Sam had been more than happy to hang at Bobby's and geek out over all the books the hunter always had lying around. The kid was such a dork, he would always pick reading over hunting.

That had been last week.

Then yesterday morning I get a call from Bobby saying that Sam was in the hospital with pneumonia.

Fucking pneumonia.

The older hunter had told me that my little brother was alright, it was a mild case and after a few days in the hospital he would be allowed to go home. A couple weeks of meds and rest and the he should be good as new.

That information may have been enough to ease my father's nerves, but it did nothing for mine.

I had insisted that we head back to South Dakota and thankfully Dad had agreed, saying that we would start back the next day, giving him just enough time to finish up the hunt. I didn't want to wait that long, knowing that it would take more than a day to drive from Massachusetts all the way to Sioux Falls; but I hadn't argued, because I knew that John was doing the best he could. And that had been enough, until last night.

Last night I called to speak to Sam, he had been sleeping when Bobby phoned to give us the news so I hadn't had a chance to talk with him yet.

My little brother had hardly been able to respond throughout the conversation. The sound of each of his deep,wet, hacking coughs had me wincing. Every time the kid pulled in air it sounded like a struggle, after just a few minutes Bobby had taken the phone back and told Sam to put that oxygen mask over his face, but before he obeyed, Sammy called my name...or rather the first letter of my name.

It had sounded more like a plea than a call as my brother dragged out "Dee" in his tired raspy voice.

That had done it.

That one desperate sound was all it took for me to realize I needed to see Sam now, and I needed to see him now, not two days from now, but right freakin now.

Being half-way across the country was no longer acceptable.

After listening to Bobby's feeble attempts to convince me that my litter brother was fine, that he was actually getting better, I hung up the phone and informed my father that I was booking a flight.

Surprisingly, the hunter had given me little resistance, releasing a long exasperated sigh and nodding his head. My dad even sprung for the airline ticket, because even though we didn't agree on the level of urgency of the situation, John understood me. He knew how I felt about Sam. He got that it was my job to look after the kid. He understood how seriously I took that responsibility, after all, it was he who first gave it to me.

Dad booked me a flight out and drove me to the airport this morning. He gave me my passport and took a few minutes explaining the boarding process to me. I did my best not to show my fear, knowing that my father wasn't much for fear, especially the irrational sort. Although, the hunter must have detected something, because he patted me on the knee and told me it would be fine. My father made me promise to call him with an update on Sam's condition once I arrived and said that he would head over tomorrow morning after he wrapped up the hunt.

I nodded my understanding and pretended not to see the momentary regret that flashed through my dad's eyes.

I knew that on occasion the older man recognized the fact that his commitment to hunting kept him from being the father he should be.

I was pulled from my reflective state as the woman at the gate asked for my boarding pass. I gave her my ticket, hating the way my hand shook as I presented it.

Next thing I knew I was walking in a tunnel, leading to the plane. My hands were clenched as my mind raced with all the horrible things that could go wrong.

But, never once did I consider turning back, because Sammy needed me.

I forced my feet to keep moving.

I thought once I was on the airplane and seated that things would get easier.

I thought wrong.

Anxiety was racing through my body as I sat, pulling the shade over the window beside me and closing my eyes.

I didn't open them again for awhile, not even when I felt someone take the seat next to me.

I tried to breathe deeply, clenching the arm rests as the plane took off.

I didn't release my death grip on my seat until we were flying smoothly in the air. Only then did I open my eyes, glancing at the individual beside me, taking in his suit and apparent focus on the file folder in his lap. I immediately knew he was some sort of business man. At least I didn't have to worry about him starting up some lame-ass conversation.

I took deep breaths, in my nose, out my mouth and spent the next three hours staring at the back of the seat in front of me. I began to think that maybe this whole flying thing wasn't as bad as I had thought.

And then the turbulence hit.

The plane started shaking. My eyes went wide as I glanced frantically about. My grip on the armrests intensified as my entire body went stiff.

Nobody else was reacting.

The plane was probably about to fucking crash and kill us all, but I was the only one with enough sense to panic.

The tin can I was trapped in millions of feet above the ground continued to rattle. Either every single person on this plane was possessed...or there was nothing to be freaking out over.

I whispered "Christo" and saw no reaction.

I tried to breathe deeply.

I even started humming Metallica, something that often calmed me down.

It didn't work, I was still tense with terror, waiting for the metal cylinder to follow the path of gravity.

I closed my eyes, continuing to hum and breathe softly, but this time I wrapped my fingers around the ugly charm hanging from my neck and thought of my little brother.

Sammy.

The kid with that ridiculously long shaggy hair.

The kid with those stupid puppy dog eyes.

The short, skinny little brat who always asked too many questions.

Who always had his nose in a book and talked way to fricken much.

The kid who I was doing all this shit for.

The kid who needed me.

The kid who I needed.

My kid.

Sammy.

Just like that, breathing easy was no longer a struggle. I felt all of the muscles in my body starting to relax as my white-knuckle hold on the seat released and I continued to run my thumb across the face of the charm.

I peaked my eyes open, glancing over at the man to my right, thankful that he seemed far too interested in his paperwork to notice my little freakout.

There was finally an end to the turbulence and not long after came the landing, which was a horrible process. At one point I swear I could feel the donuts I ate for breakfast rising up into my throat, but I swallowed it down, because I refuse to be one of those morons who actually has make use of the dorky barf-bags.

So maybe the flight wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, seeing as how the plane never actually crashed.

But as I stepped out of the deadly contraption, I vowed to never again set foot in another one. Never again.

I'd rather drive three days in the Impala than travel like that for a few hours.

I walked into the airport, my carry-on duffel slung over my shoulder as I immediately scanned for Bobby. I had told him what time the flight would land after Dad booked it last night, he had promised to be here to pick me up.

"Dean."

My head turned immediately at my name, searching out the face of the older hunter.

I caught sight of the baseball cap and made my way quickly towards the man underneath it.

"How is he?" I asked once I was close enough.

Bobby smirked.

"Figures those'd be the first words outta your mouth." He said with a shake of his head as he lead the way out towards his truck.

"That's not the answer I'm looking for." I replied shortly, I didn't joke around when it came to Sam's health.

"It's like I told you on the phone. He's got pneumonia, he coughs a lot, and he's on oxygen right now. He's not great, but the kid is getting better."

I shook my head in frustration.

"Bobby how could-

I literally bit my tongue. It wasn't Bobby's fault, none of this was his doing. Sam had already been sick when we dropped him off with the hunter. I had no doubt that our surrogate uncle did his best to keep my brother safe and healthy. No, this wasn't on Bobby.

This was on me.

I left my post. It is my job to look after the midget and I left him.

"I'm sorry son. Sam seemed alright, he swore he was fine, I didn't notice how bad it got until it was too late. It got real bad real quick. I took him straight to the hospital when I caught on." Bobby declared gruffly as he drove the truck out of airport parking lot.

"I know. It's not your fault. That little brat has always been too good at hiding shit." I muttered, because I had spoken to Sam a few times throughout the week and even I hadn't caught on to how sick he had gotten.

I would have, had I been with him.

Had I not left someone else to do my job.

It wasn't long until we pulled up at Sioux Falls General. Bobby lead the way to Sam's room and I followed right on his heels, willing the man to speed up.

The hunter paused in front of a room, nodding his head towards it and then stepping back. I turned and entered the designated space, freezing at the sight before me.

The fear I felt as I stared over at the young boy lying in the hospital bed, trumped any feelings I had towards flying.

This fear didn't just make my body tense, it seared through my soul.

Sammy lay there with an oxygen mask over his face, IV's coming out of his arm, and a heart monitor attached to his finger.

As I neared the sleeping boy I noticed the pale pallor of his skin and the dark shadows under his eyes.

While staring down at my visibly ill little brother, I heard someone approaching from behind me.

"Damnit Bobby, I thought you said he was getting better." I whispered, masking my concern with anger as I threw an accusatory glare at the older man.

"He is Dean. His fever is gone and his breathing is a hell of a lot better than it was. He should be off oxygen by tomorrow and the day after that we can take him home." He explained patiently as he observed Sam.

I nodded, because I believed Bobby, but that didn't make it any easier to see my kid brother in such an awful state.

"I'm going to go grab a cup of joe. You want anything?"

I shook my head, but sent an appreciative glance the hunter's way.

Bobby understood how Sam and I worked, and I knew that he was giving me the time I needed to be alone with my brother.

I looked down at the young boy's face, smirking at all the hair that was splayed across the pillow and pushing his unruly bangs off his forehead. I left my palm resting against his face for a moment, simultaneously checking temperature and allowing myself the physical reassurance I required after so many hours of constant worry.

"You scared the shit out of me Sammy." I said to myself as I picked up one of his small hands and swallowed it with my own.

"You suck for making me fly here. I really hate planes man, probably about as much as you hate clowns." I observed aloud.

I felt the fingers in my grip start to twitch and stared intently at the young face, knowing from experience what was coming.

Sure enough two hazel eyes cracked open and stared up at me.

It took a moment for the fog of sleep to lift, but once it did those eyes widened to an almost comical degree.

"Dee." I heard my brother call out from underneath the oxygen mask.

"The one and only, little brother." I replied, a smile on my face.

Instantly Sam was pulling the mask from his face.

"Hey what the hell do you think you're doing? Don't take it off." I admonished, lightly smacking his fingers away.

"It's okay. I'm fine." The kid insisted, his raspy voice telling me the total opposite.

"No dude. You're not. You're sick." I reminded him, trying to set the plastic breathing tool back over the kid's mouth.

"Just give me a minute!" Sam argued, in a tone that would have sounded whiny and petulant had it not come out so gravelly.

I allowed him his minute, knowing that if I noticed any struggle to breathe, that mask was going right back on the kid's face whether he liked it or not.

"When did you get here." He asked, refusing to relinquish his hold on my hand even when I attempted to release mine.

"Just a minute ago. Dad is on his way, but it'll take him a couple of days." I elaborated.

"How did you get here if you didn't come with Dad?" Sam asked curiously.

"Well kiddo, there's these new things, they are called airplanes. They fly in the sky and can take you-

"Oh shut up Dean. I know what an airplane is." Sam pouted, swatting lazily at me with the hand that was not still gripping my fingers.

"That's cool that you got to go in one!" He commented, with a smile.

"Yeah it was fine." I lied, because no way was I telling my little brother that I was afraid of flying.

As far as Sam knew, I was fearless, and that's exactly how I intended to keep it. I knew from experience that it made you feel safer when you depended on someone who wasn't afraid of anything.

"Why didn't you tell Bobby you were so sick?" I questioned, switching the topic.

Sam sent me a sheepish look accompanied with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"I didn't think it was that bad." Was his lame excuse.

"You didn't think it was that bad? You have pneumonia Sam!" I declared, because apparently that minor fact had slipped the kid's mind.

The eye roll I received was so classic little brother that it actually gave me some form of relief. Sick or not, Sammy was still very much himself.

"I know that Dean." He sighed.

"So why didn't you tell someone? Why didn't you tell me?" I questioned softly, being sure not to sound disappointed or demanding, just needing an honest answer.

Sam looked between me and the bed as he chewed on his bottom lip.

"I just...I kept thinking that I would get better and...I don't know...I just never been sick by myself before."

It took me a moment to understand what the kid was getting at, and then it clicked.

I have always been with Sam whenever he has been sick. I am often the first person to detect his approaching illness, even before he does, and I often take control right away. I make sure he gets lots of fluids and rest and meds if he needs them. I know when he is getting worse, even if he won't fess up to it. I have always been the kid's nursemaid. Until last week. Last week when I knew he was getting a cold and instead of taking control and forcing him to sleep and eat, I left him. I left him with someone who hasn't spent everyday for the past twelve years of their life getting to know Sam. Someone who can't detect all the kid's subtle tells, and probably can't tell when he is bullshitting.

Bobby loves Sam, I know that much, but he doesn't know him like I do.

Not even Dad knows the kid like I do.

Sam doesn't know what to do when he is sick around someone who believes him when he says he's fine, or who buys his lie that he is just tired, or that it's just a little cough.

He has never been in that situation before.

"Well next time you are sick, I want you to tell me. I don't care where I am, how many states away. You tell me and I'll come back and look after your ass. Preferably before you end up in the hospital. Alright kiddo?" I comment, a kind smirk on my face as I lightly ruffle my brother's shaggy hair.

"Deal." He croaks, smiling up at me like I'm some hero.

Like I am not the brother who ditched him for a hunt.

Who didn't stick around to look after him, even if it was just a little sniffle.

Sam gives me a look like I am fucking batman.

God this kid.

One look is all it takes to melt my heart and leave me full of a bunch of girly emotions.

My brother suddenly starts to cough in the same wet awful way that I heard on the phone last night.

"Alright, that's enough with your blabbering. How about you just shut-up and breathe for awhile." I suggest as I arrange the oxygen mask back over Sam's mouth and nose.

His compliant nod tells me exactly how sick and exhausted he really is.

The coughing eases once the mask is in place and my brother relaxes into the bed, looking tiredly up at me.

"Get some rest buddy." I order gently.

Sam just stares, his hand pulling at the device over his mouth.

"Dude just leave it." I admonish in exasperation.

The boy stares at me, and I can tell that there is something else he wants to say.

"Just talk, I can understand you. I always figured out all that babbling you did when you were little, I think I can comprehend anything you say now." I joke.

Sam rolls his eyes again, but let his hand fall away from the mask.

"You're staying right?"

I nod in reply to the muffled question.

"I'll be right here Sammy." I promise, giving the kid's hand a reassuring squeeze as I smile down at him.

I spot two dimples appear underneath the oxygen device as my brother grins up at me, his eyes oozing more love and gratitude than I will ever deserve.

Slowly Sam's eyelids fall closed and his grip on my hand loosens, but does not go completely slack.

I stare down at my little brother. His face still looking sick and tired, but peaceful as he rests.

I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

This kid.

He's lying in a hospital bed, sick as can be. I show up, and instead of being angry or hurt, he is glad and grateful.

He is happy to see me and he looks at me like I have done something great.

Even when this is all my fault.

I shouldn't have left my post.

I should have stuck around to look after the kid.

I know how Sam gets when he is sick, I know how he denies it all until it's too late.

I know how he needs to be forced to sleep, eat, and take his medicine.

I know him, and I know how to look after him.

Nobody has more experience with looking after the little brat than I do.

How could I possibly expect anyone else to know what the kid needs?

To understand all the stuff that I have learned after twelve years of practice?

I shake my head at my foolishness as I use my fingers to comb through my brother's knotted hair.

"I'm sorry Sammy." I apologize softly.

I fucking hate airplanes, but I will fly any distance for my little brother.

Face any fear.

Fight any monster.

Make any sacrifice.

I will do anything for this kid.

Anything to keep him safe and healthy and happy.

Because that is my job.

And it is one that only I can do.

Because nobody knows my little brother like I do.

I raised him.

I take care of him.

Sammy is my responsibility.

He is my kid.

That's the way it is and I wouldn't change it for the world.

* * *

Note: How'd I do? Please comment/review if you have a second. It would mean a lot to me. Thanks for reading! - Sam


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